Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Villain Ch 1621. Fighting Like Devils

Vivian dove past a glimmering rune panel and lashed her whip toward the beast’s legs. “I’ll bait its movement—who wants to clip its core?”

“I’ll melt it,” Bella said, stepping forward. Her palms ignited.

“Don’t use the same spell twice in a row!” Alice warned. “That’s the memory loop!”

Shea soared into the air, diving low and dragging her harp blade across Mol’Drath’s flank.

Jane hissed, “I need blood on the field. Get me a crack!”

Larissa was already there—sliding under the hammer, blood blades glowing red. She sliced into the same weak point Allen had bent earlier, dragging a gash through its armor.

[Weak Point Targeted – Armor Compromised: Right Vent Plating]

Mol’Drath roared again. The tiles lit up beneath it—red, blue, green.

“Color sync phase!” Bella yelled.

“Red is fire, blue is mirror, green is lockdown—watch your position!” Zoe barked.

They scattered, each one syncing with their tile.

Allen stood dead center.

Blood on his face. Smirk on his lips. Sword in his hand.

The boss charged again.

And this time?

Allen welcomed it.

The room exploded in noise and fire and blade.

And the devil grinned.

Glass tiles cracked beneath molten steps. Chains screeched across the ceiling. Mol’Drath’s hammer glowed like it had been ripped straight from the forge of a god, and its white-hot eyes burned holes through the air as it charged.

But it didn’t get far.

Because the girls moved first.

Vivian blurred across the battlefield, sliding low beneath the hammer’s arc, whip wrapping around one of the boss’s ankle joints. She yanked hard, sparks flying as the plated leg twisted. “Nope,” she snapped. “Now our turn.”

Shea dove from above, slicing through the same joint with her harp blade in a clean vertical stroke. Glass shimmered with impact resonance beneath her feet as she landed. “Let’s break it.”

Zoe surged from behind, her tentacles snapping around the beast’s free arm, locking it into a twisted grapple. “Pin it.”

Bella stepped into the tile glow and shouted, “Ice Lance!”

The spear of frost slammed into the half-cracked vent plating Larissa had carved earlier, deepening the rupture with a loud CRACK, smoke hissing out of it.

Jane’s undead burst from the floor, clawing at the boss’s legs like rabid shadows. “Time to suffer.”

Alice spun mid-air, eyes wild. “Mirror pulse—now!” She unleashed a volley of Void Sphere, shattering against the red tile and ricocheting straight into Mol’Drath’s back with amplified velocity.

It screamed—its voice metallic, violated.

Allen watched all of it, wings slowly unfurling behind him. His crimson eyes never blinked.

They were fighting like devils.

For him.

Bleeding.

Burning.

Smiling through it.

“Loyalty,” he muttered.

Or maybe—

“Obsession?”

Either way, he felt it in his chest—hot, tight, clawing at the inside of his ribs.

They were giving him everything.

And it was so damn hot.

The way Vivian snapped her whip and called his name between attacks.

The way Zoe didn’t care that her arm was burned—she still pulled the creature down with all her strength.

The way Jane giggled mid-blood curse, then screamed when it resisted. “Don’t ignore me—he’s watching!”

They weren’t just killing it.

They were showing off.

For him.

Spoiling him.

And Allen?

Allen couldn’t take it anymore.

The adrenaline surged up his spine like fire through dry kindling.

His grip on the blade tightened, knuckles whitening.

His breath slowed.

Then broke.

He moved.

No skill used.

Just insanity.

His wings burst open behind him, casting the whole room in a demonic shadow.

He lifted off the ground and streaked across the arena—straight at Mol’Drath.

And slammed the blade down with so much force it cracked four tiles at once.

Mol’Drath reeled back.

Allen didn’t stop.

He flew straight into its chest, blade driving in between plates, and twisted.

The monster screamed, trying to shake him off.

Allen let go of the hilt, flipped mid-air, and landed on the boss’s shoulder—ripping the blade out through its collar joint.

Sparks and molten metal splattered everywhere.

Allen’s face was slick with it.

He laughed.

Unhinged. Guttural.

A sound that didn’t belong in any raid.

“Move faster, you fucking hunk of scrap,” he growled, blade humming in his hand.

Mol’Drath roared again, slamming its massive body forward in desperation, hammer arm swinging wide—trying to crush Allen, trying to make anything connect.

But Allen was already gone.

The blow hit nothing but air and pressure.

He didn’t dodge—he vanished. A blur of shadow and smirk and killing intent that slipped between attacks like water dodging cracks.

The boss turned, scanned, sensors glowing red-hot.

And Allen was behind it.

Leaning lazily against the edge of a fractured crystal pillar, blade twirling in his hand like he was waiting for the real fight to start.

Mol’Drath charged again—faster this time, its steps buckling glass tiles underfoot.

Allen moved just before it landed.

Shadow blurred, wings spread wide like a devil’s crown, and he lifted off the ground with one smooth beat—hovering above the strike like it was a minor inconvenience.

Still untouched.

Still laughing.

He dropped low, blade dragging sparks along the glass as he passed beneath the boss’s belly, carving a searing red line as he went.

No weak point.

Just fun.

He slashed again—diagonal, clean—right behind the knee joint.

Mol’Drath staggered.

Allen circled him. Slow. Patient.

“Having trouble tracking me?” he taunted, his voice smooth, intimate, cruel.

The boss turned, lunged—another miss.

Allen blurred across the glass, moving faster than the machine could register.

Each time Mol’Drath turned, Allen was already gone. On the right. Then the left. Now above. Now slicing through a vent plate at the back of its neck.

He didn’t just fight it.

He humiliated it.

Made it look slow.

Made it bleed.

The blade tore through another vent. The molten steam hissed outward like a scream trapped for years.

Allen licked the blood from his wrist and whispered, “Not yet.”

Mol’Drath roared in confusion—its targeting matrix flickering, scanning patterns glitching as Allen refused to stand still, refused to play fair.

One more blur, one more step.

He dropped down like a vulture.

The blade pierced the back of its calf and Allen twisted the hilt sharply, bone-deep satisfaction rolling through his limbs as the boss jerked in reaction.

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